


The Great Hogwarts Bake Off

by Lilian_Silver



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Inspired by The Great British Bake Off
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22030858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilian_Silver/pseuds/Lilian_Silver
Summary: The ten year anniversary of the fall of Voldemort finds Hermione Granger participating as a contestant in a muggle baking competition at Hogwarts.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 40
Kudos: 141





	The Great Hogwarts Bake Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LovesBitca8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovesBitca8/gifts).



> Hello lovelies, I have been MIA for a while, I know! I asked my dear friend Lovesbitca8 to send me a Dramione prompt to get me writing again, and she obliged by gifting me this one that she had wanted to write herself. I went over her word count by about 400 (oops) :D and shockingly this is my cleanest piece to date. Who knew I could write for general audiences?

It had been ten years since the fall of Voldemort, and the wizarding world had been engaging in a year-long celebration. In truth, it seemed more like every business owner had been capitalizing on the anniversary to bring in galleons in the most gratuitous of ways. At least, that was how Hermione Granger saw it, and although she acquiesced to participate in pretty much any promotional event she was asked to, she could not help but feel a bit used in the whole scenario.

As a figurehead in the war, she had since become quite a public figure of hope and charity. Some of the things she was asked to do, however, really walked the line between charitable contribution and shameless selling out, and the reality baking show she was about to walk out onto a stage to take part in was no exception. To add insult to injury, it was she who had unintentionally given the idea of a reality show to the event creators.

“Two minutes, Ms. Granger!” an event volunteer shouted with a knock on the door of her makeshift dressing room off the Great Hall in Hogwarts. This was one of many “festival weekends” being held at the school in celebration.

She felt momentarily nauseous at the idea of doing competitive baking in the same room where Tom Riddle’s body hit the floor just ten years prior. It was all just so tacky. Still, she had agreed and she should make the most of it, as she always had.

A few minutes later, she found herself being ushered into the small corridor adjacent to the Hall. It dawned on her that she had no idea who she’d be competing against, as the number of witches and wizards who knew how to cook or bake the muggle way were surely in short supply. She wasn’t entirely certain, but she got the feeling that the show producers were attempting to keep that a secret from her.

Before she had time to think too hard on it, the door was flung open and she heard the familiar voice of Dean Thomas announcing her name through a sonorous charm, so it reverberated around the hall. Thomas, being muggle born, could of course give accurate play by play of the baking progress.

She stepped out to uproarious applause, which she cringed to realize she was beginning to get used to.

The stage was set with four workstations, each outfitted with a muggle cooker, and countertops lined with baking ingredients. Hermione walked to the one on the far right, waving briefly at the large audience assembled in front of the stage.

Baking had become something of an obsession for her after the war, and she was confident that she’d be able to settle into it once the competition began.

Her next competitor was Dennis Creevey, who ran out to only slightly less applause, as he was also a war hero of sorts.

He was followed by an older witch who Hermione was startled to recognize as Mary Cattermole, the witch who she’d saved from persecution at the Ministry of Magic so many years ago. She and her husband owned a small restaurant in Hogsmeade now.

Finally, the door opened to reveal her fourth and final competitor, and even though Hermione could hear the name being announced and could see the familiar head of blonde hair, she could scarcely believe it.

Draco Malfoy stepped out to a mixed reaction by the crowd. There were boos and hisses, but far more cheers and applause.

“Now everyone, let’s not let old prejudices live on in the very hall in which they were dismantled!” Dean said. The crowd obliged and continued on with polite applause before the din died out completely, leaving room for Dean to begin the proceedings.

Malfoy took his place at the workstation directly behind Hermione, and she felt as though his eyes were boring holes through her back. Glancing over at the metal mixing bowls on her countertop, she could just make out his smug smirk. Whether he was looking her way or not, she could not discern.

What in the world was he doing there? And how had he qualified for such a competition? Not only was he the only non-muggle-born contestant, but he was a known death eater, regardless of how hard he’d worked to redeem his image. Hermione had always been certain that he’d only done it to save face and maintain his wealth vs an actual alignment with pro muggle-born organizations.

She didn’t have time to think any further, because Dean was announcing their first task.

“As you all know, the first round will be rather simple. Of course, your fate will be in the hands of our judges, so let’s introduce them before the baking begins!”

The crowd cheered and jeered as Dean motioned to the same door the contestants had come out of.

“First, we have our esteemed headmistress, Minerva McGonagall!”

Professor McGonagall emerged looking none too thrilled to be part of the proceedings. She gave a small wave to the crowd before taking her place in a purple armchair off to the side.

“Next we have war heroine and member of the Holy Head Harpies, the lovely and talented Ginny Potter!”

Hermione did know that her friend would be judging the competition, as Ginny was the person to whom she’d mentioned reality cooking shows, and the reason for all of this. The fact that Ginny had neglected to tell her about Malfoy’s involvement was a matter that Hermione longed to address. Instead, she settled for a meaningful glare, to which Ginny responded by glancing at Malfoy and then back to Hermione with a wink.

“Alright everyone, it is time to begin! For this first round, you will each be making a basic devil’s food cake. Perfectly stacked and iced, ready for presentation to our judges in the next two hours! As you know, there is no magic allowed in this competition, and though your wands have been taken from you, our judges will be on the lookout for any wandless magic, which will disqualify you from the competition immediately, so let’s all be on our best behavior, shall we?”

Hermione nearly scoffed aloud. As if Draco Malfoy could be trusted to not use magic. She knew for a fact that he’d mastered wandless spells early on in their school career, having been particularly annoyed by it, as well as by her own inability to pull off such a thing at the time. Her knuckles cracked as she remembered it, and it took everything in her not to turn and glare at him.

She couldn’t let anger derail her, it was game time, and while she had come into it rather lukewarm about the competitive part, she was now well and truly committed to winning this damn thing if it killed her.

She heard Dean shout his apparent show host catchphrase, “Let’s make some non-magic!” and with an eye roll, she grabbed a bowl and set about prepping her chocolate icing. It would need time to cool and had to be done first. As the crowd cheered them on, she was energetically aware of Malfoy behind her making movements identical to her own. Thinking that perhaps he was directly copying her, she glanced back at him, but saw only concentration on his face as he went about his tasks. He was also beginning with icing. A brief glance at Mary and Dennis revealed that they were both measuring out salt and baking powder, apparently intending to bake their cakes first. That would be a mistake, she thought, and with a flip of her stomach she realized that it was likely she and Malfoy would advance to the next round.

Good. She was now firmly invested in beating the Slytherin, and it was fifth year potions class all over again.  
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Dennis Creevey was eliminated from the competition, having been unable to ice his cake at all, while Mary Cattermole had managed to cool hers in the freezer without compromising it too much. Draco and Hermione’s cakes had been judged to be exactly equal, but only after Ginny added her two cents that Malfoy’s cake was far moister. She and Minerva to agree to disagree.

Throughout the entire thing, Malfoy had remained polite and civil, not even using his proximity to tease or taunt Hermione, which she actually found quite unnerving! She had no idea what to make of him, and had thus far not made so much as eye contact with her former classmate.

Dean announced that they’d be taking a lunch break, and that everyone who had attended the opening would have priority seating for the afternoon. With that, the crowd dispersed, and Hermione set her sights on Ginny. She began to march over to her friend when Dean suddenly stepped into her path.

“Now, Hermione, I know you two are friends, but we can’t have you fraternizing with the judges between competitions, can we?”

She rounded on Dean. “I need to have a word with Mrs. Potter, it’s a matter of some urgency.”

“Be that as it may, Ms. Granger, these are the… rules of this infernal game,” Minerva said with a roll of her eyes that Hermione greatly appreciated.

“Yep, sorry Mione, I’ll be having lunch in Minerva’s chambers, I’ll see you later then!” Ginny said with yet another wink and far too much pep in her step as she exited the Great Hall with the headmistress.

“We have lunch for you all in the back,” Dean said, and Hermione turned to see that Malfoy had been chatting with Mary Cattermole.

“I assume you’ll be joining us, Ms. Granger?” said Mary, as Malfoy looked on with an indiscernible expression on his face.

“Er… yes, I suppose I… um, yes thank you,” she said dumbly, walking forward to join them as they re-entered the hall they’d come in through.

There was a round table set for three, and Hermione approached it, feeling as if she’d left her body. She inwardly cursed her own agreeable nature and inability to say no to things.

As soon as they sat down, food appeared in the serving dishes, just like it always had at the Hogwarts feasts. Hermione winced, thinking of the house elves slaving away in the kitchens.

“They’re all paid now, you know.”

She looked up to see Malfoy looking back at her expectantly.

“They… what? Who?”

He cracked a smile as he picked up and unfolded his napkin to place it on his lap. “The house elves here at the school, they all receive pay now. Just like Dobby did.”

She blinked back at him in disbelief. That was right, she did know that. Opening her mouth to explain this, she was cut off by Mrs. Cattermole.

“Oh, did you know Dobby the house elf?” she asked Malfoy.

“Yes,” he began with a stilted tone, “unfortunately, I was his first master. I can’t say I’m proud of the way my family treated him.”

Mary Cattermole’s eyes went wide. “But that’s right! He was from the Malfoy family! That was how he was able to gain entry to the manor and rescue The Golden Trio,” she said, pointing at Hermione.

For a moment, Malfoy seemed to smile again before clearing his throat and serving himself a piece of roasted chicken.

“Ms. Granger,” said Mrs. Cattermole. “I never did get to thank you for getting me and Reg out of the Ministry that day. I just can’t tell you how grateful we are, how in your debt we are!”

“Oh Mrs. Cattermole, please don’t say that, I’m sure we put you in more danger than you would have been otherwise. We were just righting our own wrong by getting you out.”

“That’s not so! I would have had my wand snapped that day if you hadn’t interfered! And the number of other muggle-borns you saved that day. You were incredibly brave!”

“On the contrary, we were incredibly foolhardy and exceedingly lucky,” Hermione said, aware that Malfoy was watching the interaction between them carefully. She couldn’t help but glance over at him, confirming that he was looking right at her. He looked away, refocusing on his food, and Hermione supposed she should eat as well. She spooned some roasted potatoes onto her plate.

“Oh you’re so modest,” said Mrs. Cattermole with a wave of her hand. “Don’t you think so, Draco?”

Draco. She’d only heard his mother call him that. It sounded so oddly intimate.

She half expected him to correct the woman, but he didn’t.

Finishing the bite of food he’d been working on, Malfoy nodded and said, “you’re certainly more in touch with reality than Weasley. The git tells the story like it was all planned out and executed perfectly.”

Hermione drew back, utterly perplexed. “You’ve spoken to Ron about our trip to the ministry?”

Taking another bite, Malfoy nodded. He took his time, chewing methodically, but eventually swallowed and said, “we’ve had to spend a fair amount of time together. Ministry work and all.”

“Oh but that’s right,” said Mrs. Cattermole, “You’ve been doing so much good work over the years, Draco. Reg is always saying, he can’t believe you were raised by Lucius Malfoy and turned out so gracious and humble.”

Alright, Hermione must have been hearing things, because there was no way that Draco Malfoy’s name could appear in the same sentence as the words gracious and humble. Sure, he’d been charitable over the years, but that was in keeping with the way his father handled business. Give money to the right people and hold your position of power. It was just a game.

“I appreciate that Mary, but I promise you I haven’t done nearly enough to make up for my family’s misdeeds.”

She was staring. She was unapologetically staring at him now. It was in that moment that she realized that she hadn’t had a proper conversation with Draco Malfoy in… well, ever! And certainly not in the last ten years since the war. He’d clearly changed, which was to be expected over that much time, but it was a very particular sort of change. She scanned his features as he continued to talk with Mrs. Cattermole.

He seemed to have lost that sense of haughtiness, which had been so signature to the Malfoy name. He could still send a rather severe glare, for certain, but his overall demeanor had softened. Hermione was surprised to note that he didn’t seem to be seeking any credit for what he’d done in the last decade. On the contrary, he was saying he hadn’t done enough, a fact she would have agreed with if she hadn’t witnessed him saying it with such hurt in his voice. She had the sudden maddened urge to reach across the table and take his hand… an urge she stifled immediately.  
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Mrs. Cattermole kept the conversation going for what seemed like longer than it took to bake a devil’s food cake. Somehow, they hadn’t discussed the competition at all and had stuck instead to the topics of Malfoy’s post-war efforts to change the way muggle-borns are treated. All the while, Hermione exchanged a number of meaningful looks with Malfoy, and began to revel in catching that small yet genuine smile cross his face. Such a foreign sight to see.

She’d never been able to appreciate that he was handsome. It made her slightly queasy to acknowledge it, but there it was. He’d grown into a rather attractive man, and there was no denying it.

Before she could ruminate on it for too long, Dean came in to let them know they’d be getting started again soon. Malfoy excused himself to the loo, and Mrs. Cattermole took Hermione’s arm, ushering over to the door that led to the Great Hall.

“Well,” she said, “I have to say, I did not expect to see sparks between the two of you.”

Hermione stopped walking, and Mrs. Cattermole continued on, so deep in thought that she hadn’t noticed.

“Imagine! After all your history… sparks!”

“Excuse me,” Hermione nearly shouted, causing Mrs. Cattermole to spin around in surprise. “I have no idea what you’re referring to.” She finished the statement with a haughty crossing of her arms.

But Mrs. Cattermole only smirked in response, waving a hand at Hermione as if to say “oh, you’re putting me on.”

Just then, Malfoy re-entered the room, and the door to the Great Hall opened to welcome them back to the competition.  
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“All right, we are back and ready to begin the second and final round of the show, so let’s give our remaining contestants a big round of applause!”

The audience had grown since the first round, and Hermione felt her nerves tingling, but in a way that had nothing to do with the size of the crowd. Malfoy was now to her left, Mrs. Cattermole to her right, the workstations having been formed into a semicircle. Glancing over to the woman on her right, she received a small wink and looked promptly away with a sharp intake of breath.

Her mind was still reeling, trying to discern what Mrs. Cattermole had meant by sparks. Sure, she’d found herself staring at him, but that was mere curiosity. The way she might stare at a potion whose colors were changing unexpectedly before her eyes.

Just then she stole a glance over at him, only to find him looking right back at her. Another sharp intake of breath, and she faced forward as Dean continued his announcements to the crowd, none of which she’d heard. Had she seen that small smile cross Malfoy’s face again? No, it must have been a trick of the light.

“And so,” Dean was saying, “the final round challenge is to make an anniversary celebration cake! Not just any cake, of course, it must be grand enough to turn heads while also delighting the taste buds of our esteemed judges.”

Hermione took a deep breath, knowing that her planned cake would be difficult, while at the same time wondering what Malfoy would be doing. What was his take on this anniversary celebration?

“Contestants will have four hours. Please feel free to go and enjoy some of our other delights and amusements throughout the castle in the meantime, unless you’d rather sit here and stare at our three competitors, I dare say it will add to their nerves and frustrations, which will be jolly good fun. We will check in on our contestants’ progress with some bake-time interviews in about ninety minutes. Alright, let’s make some non-magic!”

About half of the crowd stood to leave while the rest remained in their seats, intent on watching the progress in real time. Hermione found herself transfixed, watching everyone decided whether to stay or to go.

“Psst, Granger,” said a voice to her left. Breaking her trance, she turned to see Malfoy grinning at her. “Best get a move on if you’re going to beat me, though I doubt that’s actually a possibility.”

Her eyes went wide. Was he being playful? And cheeky? Was he grinning?!

She’d never seen him grin in all her life. In a maniacal way, sure, but… not in a charming way. Ever.

“Right,” she said, and began fumbling with the ingredients in front of her.  
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“Thank you Mrs. Cattermole,” said Dean, “And we wish you the best of luck crafting those sponges for your ‘Pre-War Fountain of Magical Brethren’ replica cake!”

Dean ambled over to Hermione’s station for her interview, as she wiped a combination of flour and sweat from her brow.

“Hello there, Hermione. So tell us, what are you working on?”

“Well, my cake will be a replica of the Hogwarts castle, only I will be invoking the Japanese art of kintsugi.”

“Of course, leave it to Hermione Granger to add an element we all must learn. Go on then. What’s kuntsugi?”

Hermione blushed. “Well, it’s a Japanese art form in which breaks and repairs are treated as part of the object's history. Broken ceramics are mended with a lacquer resin mixed with powdered gold. In this case, I’ll be using edible gold dust to highlight the parts of the castle that have been mended back together.”

“Wow, amazing! Truly, Hermione, that is just beautiful. I hope you can pull it off!”

Hermione smiled, raising her eyebrows and taking a deep breath. “Yes well, we’ll see, won’t we?”

“Indeed we will. Now, my last question… which of your competitors do you feel is a bigger threat to your victory?”

Hermione blushed, now certain she could feel Malfoy’s eyes on her. Mrs. Cattermole was paying them no mind at all.

“Oh well… uh… it’s really just about the fun of the game, isn’t it? And the celebration of our… collective victory,” she said, looking to the audience. There was a smattering of applause, but Dean stared back at her with a smirk worthy of Malfoy.

“Right. And I suppose we’re to believe you wouldn’t delight in beating Draco Malfoy today?”

Hermione froze, staring at Dean with wide eyes. Glancing over to Ginny, she saw that the redhead was looking pointedly away from the interaction.

“I um… that is…” she murmured.

“I’ve already lost in every battle we’ve engaged in, Thomas. I should think Granger is rather too familiar with beating me to truly find delight in it anymore.”

Hermione’s head spun around faster than a pixie escaping its cage.

Malfoy threw her a quick wink before returning diligently to his cake.

Mercifully, this distracted Dean enough to have him simply move over to Malfoy’s table for his interview.

Of all the things Hermione could have imagined having to contend with during this competition, she’d never have fathomed it would be an existential crisis about her opinion of Draco Malfoy.  
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Hours later, after the competition had ended, Hermione found herself huddled in a corridor window seat on the seventh floor, thumbing through a new edition of Hogwarts a History. She’d won the competition. Mrs. Cattermole had run out of time to full craft all of the figures for her fountain. Malfoy, however, had produced a beautiful black and white depiction of members of both sides of the war, that when turned around, showed them all cut in halves, the same on the inside regardless of the outside. It had been magnificent, and if she’d been a judge, she would have chosen his design over hers.

In the end, it seemed the crowd had been more keen on seeing her victorious, and though Minerva seemed to prefer Malfoy’s creation, she’d been awarded first place. She’d been stolen away after that for photos, and before she’d a chance to speak to him again, he’d gone.

She turned another page in the newest section, which detailed the battle that had taken place in the castle, just as she heard footsteps approaching in the corridor. Once the footsteps grew nearer, she looked up and her stomach dropped as the tall form of Draco Malfoy came into view, a sly smirk upon his face which held none of the ire it had in their youth.

“Malfoy,” she said with a small squeak to her voice.

He slowed his pace, but kept walking towards her.

“Hope I’m not disturbing you, Granger.”

“You aren’t… that is…” she said, before realizing she had a question. “How did you find me here?”

He grinned and let out a small laugh. “Surely they’ve updated that book to include the public Marauder’s Map hanging in the main corridor downstairs? Though I’d imagine you knew about it as well as you did the paid house elves?”

Hermione wanted to shove both of her palms into her face, but gripped her book more tightly instead. “Right. That’s right. I had forgotten.”

“Memory isn’t what it used to be, then, Granger? I seem to recall you very annoyingly reciting textbooks in their entirety to our teachers.”

Hermione ignored the playful jab.

“My memory’s fine, I’m just a bit… flustered by you, if you must know.”

He quirked and eyebrow and leaned back against the stone wall in a way that would have seemed haughty if Hermione hadn’t been momentarily interpreting it sexy.

“I’m not sure you meant that as a compliment, but that’s how I’m taking it.”

She managed a scoff and an eye roll as she slammed her book shut and placed it on the seat next to her. “Yes, leave it to you to be delighted by my discomfort around you. That’s seeming more like the Malfoy I remember.” She crossed her arms as she said this, and glared at him with pursed lips.

He raised both eyebrows. “And that’s seeming more like the Granger I remember. It’s about time she showed up.”

Hermione let out a breath sharply, her expression shifting from annoyance to confusion.

“You know, when I bribed Ginny to let me into this competition, I expected some significant verbal dueling with you,” he said.

Hermione felt as though the castle floor below her had vanished completely.

“You… you…”

“Ah, lost her again. No matter, I’m sure you’ll regain your irritatingly brilliant snappiness over dinner,” he said, as he stood and held out his hand.

Without realizing what she was doing, she put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her up to standing as she said, “I… what?”

He pulled her close and bent his head down so that their faces were inches apart.

“Have dinner with me, Granger.”

She stared up into his grey eyes as he scanned her face. Before she knew it, she was muttering, “Yes, alright.”

Another genuine smile crossed his face. “Good thing you said yes because Mary Cattermole would be furious with the both of us if we didn’t show at her restaurant for our reservation.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “You made a reservation at Reg and Mary’s? How did you know I’d agree to come?”

He let out a full laugh at that, glancing away before settling back on her eyes and gazing at her a moment before speaking. “Granger… this is not the first time I’ve attempted to get a private audience with you, I am always prepared with a reservation.”

Hermione sucked in a breath, mouth open and at the ready to ask more questions.

“Come on,” he said, giving her hand a pull. “You can ask me all you want over dinner.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed and please leave a comment if so <3
> 
> Also, I will be posting a fresh edit of Sour Grapes in the New Year, as well as continuing (and completing!) my two WIPS "Draco Malfoy Gets a Life Coach" and "Here's the Deal" - so watch for all that soon :)


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